


Distraction

by Melina



Category: Torchwood
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pre-Cyberwoman, Yuletide, j/i, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-22
Updated: 2007-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-01 23:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melina/pseuds/Melina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack thinks he knows what Ianto needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through 1x04.
> 
> Many, many thanks to shalott and elynross for the great story advice and editing, and to basingstoke and misspamela for the cheerleading.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.

"Another?"

Ianto looked up at the bartender before considering his nearly empty glass of scotch. He shook his head. "Whatever's on tap." The bartender nodded, moving away.

No, definitely no more scotch. He didn't want to get drunk; he'd only stopped in to the pub to relax a bit before heading home. At least that's what he told himself. It was easier than admitting that he didn't want to face the loneliness of his flat.

He nodded his thanks as the bartender set the beer down in front of him. He'd been to see Lisa just before leaving the hub, and it was hard not to think about her. He'd had another email from Dr. Tanizaki, and if he could just convince the scientist to help -- well, maybe they had a chance.

He drank, trying not to indulge in self-pity. Work had been a bit much the past few weeks -- Suzie, this new unknown, Gwen, and the constant worry about Lisa were all contributing to his tension.

"Well, fancy meeting you here."

Ianto nearly jumped as the captain slid onto the barstool next to him. "Captain!" He was suddenly, irrationally worried that his thoughts would betray him, that Harkness would know that he'd just been thinking about Lisa. "What're you-- I mean--"

"Oh, just looking for a new place to have a pint." He smiled, and Ianto couldn't help but return it. Harkness looked like he always did, like he had an hour ago when Ianto had last seen him -- a relaxed exterior wrapped around a certain unnamable intensity. Friendly, but unrevealing. And, as ever, projecting charisma and sex appeal like they were going out of style.

The bartender came over, and Harkness ordered a pint before turning back to him. "You here for any particular reason? Meeting someone?" There was just a hint of innuendo in his voice.

"Me?" He sounded tense, and tried to calm himself, grateful for a moment to collect himself as the bartender returned with the captain's drink.

Ianto interacted with the captain all day long, and he'd never before worried that his unspoken thoughts were going to betray him -- betray Lisa. It was just the unexpectedness of seeing him in surroundings Ianto associated with his non-work life, he told himself. He pushed the more casual Ianto aside, unconsciously straightening his posture, assuming his professional demeanor. "No, sir, I'm not meeting anyone. Just stopped in to unwind a bit before heading home."

Harkness smiled at him, a little wryly. "We're off the clock, Ianto. You should call me Jack. Then again, I don't know why you don't at work. Everyone else does."

That was true enough, Ianto supposed. Harkness seemed to encourage an easy familiarity among his team. But Ianto wasn't quite like the others, was he? He was the one who stayed behind, the one who cleared up, the one without any particular specialty. No, he wasn't quite like the others, yet here he was, sitting almost knee to knee with the captain in a pub. And if it was what the captain wanted... "Of course, si -- Jack."

Harkness -- Jack, he forced himself to think -- chuckled, returning to his drink. Ianto grinned, rolling his eyes at himself with a shrug. Old habits.

Jack offered his opinion about the rugby match being replayed on the pub's television sets, and Ianto responded, relieved at the innocuous, impersonal chatter. The pub was filling up around them as the clock on the wall indicated that it was almost nine o'clock.

Jack turned away from the rugby match. "Ianto, I was wondering how--"

Ianto missed the rest of his question -- it was getting louder as the pub grew more crowded. He leaned close to Jack's ear. "Sorry, I didn't hear -- it's karaoke night or something, this place is going to get a little crazy."

Jack rolled his eyes, amused. "Want to get out of here?"

Ianto nodded, reaching for his wallet. Jack brushed his hand away, leaving money enough to cover them both on the bar.

It was quieter outside, if colder. "Where are you headed?" Jack asked.

"Home, I suppose." Ianto gestured down the street, toward the bay. "I live just around the corner."

"Really." Jack said, his voice neutral.

Ianto's next words surprised even him. "If you want -- if there was something you wanted to talk about -- we could go there? I have some beer, some scotch..." Jack didn't respond immediately, and Ianto felt like a complete idiot.

"Sounds good," Jack said, gesturing for Ianto to lead the way.

As they walked, Jack offered a few quips about some of the people in the pub, and Ianto laughed, the strange tension lifting. They'd fallen into an companionable silence as they turned onto Ianto's street, a small neighborhood full of fairly new low-rise buildings.

He led Jack through a gate and what passed for a small garden, then up the stairs to his flat. He unlocked the door, gesturing Jack inside with a small smile. "Welcome," he offered, and Jack smiled in response.

He flipped a switch and lights flickered on, soft and indirect. It was one of the new style of city flats, one long, rectangular room with high ceilings and wood floors. A stairway led to an open loft above, but the coup de grace was the view: the entire back wall of the flat was glass, reaching from floor to ceiling, overlooking the bay.

The view was breathtaking, and even Jack couldn't help but be drawn toward it. "Amazing, isn't it?" Ianto offered, just to break the silence. He shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto the rack near the door. "Take your coat?"

Jack slipped it off his shoulders and over his arm easily, but when Ianto took it, he was surprised by how heavy it was. He wondered how Jack got around in the field with so much weight on his shoulders.

Jack turned away from the windows, toward him. "It's a great view." He looked around, taking everything in as he moved about. "It's a great flat," he said. "There's not much of you in it, though."

Ianto glanced around, trying to see the flat as Jack did. It was decorated tastefully, but impersonally. A breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, and underneath the loft, there was a comfortable sitting area, a sofa and easy chairs facing a fireplace. There was art on the walls, and other touches here and there, but none of it really said anything about the flat's occupant.

He nodded, and moved into the kitchen. "It's a short-term lease. I needed something right away when I moved here, and this was available and close, so... Most of my things are still in storage." He opened the refrigerator, looking at the empty shelves. "I have some Guinness, juice..." he said, considering the contents of his cupboard, "vodka or scotch?"

"Scotch," Jack answered. He leaned on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, watching as Ianto busied himself with the drinks.

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" It was all he could do not to tack a "sir" on to the end.

Jack grinned at him, the unmistakable Captain Jack Harkness grin -- friendly, appealing, but shielded, giving nothing away -- at least nothing that mattered. "Nothing in particular. Just wanted to see how things were going."

Ianto handed Jack his drink. "Things are fine," he answered, a bit too quickly, perhaps.

Jack's mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. He moved back toward the windows and the view, and Ianto followed, almost reluctantly, away from the safety of the kitchen and the busywork tasks it might offer.

"I only ask," Jack said, "because I know it's been a tough time for you. London and Torchwood One. And then Suzie."

There was no pity in Jack's voice, just a quiet, solid compassion, and Ianto couldn't help but react to it. He tried to force himself not to think, not to feel, because if he did, he was afraid of what might happen. He swallowed some of his drink, and the sharp flood of heat quickly spread from his stomach through the rest of his body. He really should have opened another beer for himself and stayed away from the scotch.

"I'm all right, really." He sounded particularly unconvincing, even to himself.

When he looked up again, he saw Jack studying him intently. "I think you spend a lot of time talking yourself into that," he said, "but I'm not sure it's true. You take care of everyone else, Ianto. Who takes care of you?" Jack reached out, caressing Ianto's cheek with the back of his hand.

That simple contact was enough to unman him. Ianto's heart skipped a beat, and guilt and pain and sorrow be damned, he leaned into Jack's touch, his eyes drifting closed. Jack's hand fell gently to his shoulder, sliding up to the back of his neck. His fingers were firm and warm and ever so welcome, massaging away tension Ianto hadn't known was there.

It felt so good, he could almost let himself believe that it was happenstance, or fate, or whatever you wanted to call it. But Ianto didn't believe in fate.

He opened his eyes, meeting Jack's steadily. "You knew where I was tonight."

That corner-of-his-mouth smile appeared again. "Yes."

Jack squeezed Ianto's shoulder before releasing him, stepping away just enough to give him some breathing space, for which he was grateful. "And you knew I lived nearby."

"Yes."

"And you wanted me to bring you back here."

"Yes."

"And you planned... You thought--"

"That I might shag you stupid? Yeah." He was unflinching, unembarrassed, matter of fact.

"But-- why-- " Ianto felt himself at the reach of his limits, beyond understanding. "Regular bosses just don't do that, you know!" he burst out.

Jack laughed. "Ianto, I know we haven't known each other for that long, but I think you've figured out I'm not really a regular boss."

That was the understatement of the century. The millennium, even. Regular bosses didn't offer the little touches or squeezes or hugs that Jack did. Didn't stand so close or remark upon how one looked in a suit. Didn't talk about their sexuality openly. Didn't flirt with everyone they encountered. Regular bosses were too afraid of harassment claims and who knew what else.

Then again, maybe Jack didn't need to be regular, because it was hard to harass the willing. "Why?"

Jack's voice was quiet, sincere. "There was a time when it was simply called 'heart's ease,' something one friend might offer another when he needed it."

Ianto frowned, his pride overcoming, for the moment, his desire to beg Jack to touch him again. "Yeah, today, we call it a pity shag." He turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"Oh, really? Is that what they call it?"

Jack was beside him in a moment, turning Ianto into his arms. He took the glass from Ianto's hand, setting it on a nearby table beside his own. Ianto could have pulled away, or taken a step back, but he didn't. He barely even considered it.

Time slowed as Jack bent his head and kissed him. He opened his mouth under Jack's, and tried not to shudder, even as he reached out himself, giving into the temptation to touch Jack's shoulders, his chest, his back.

Jack kissed the way he did everything -- with total focus and commitment. His mouth was hot, his lips soft, and his tongue... was something unto itself. He finally broke the kiss, tilting Ianto's chin so he could meet his eyes. Jack smiled at him, not his concealing grin, but a real smile, his eyes, for once, revealing more than friendliness or camaraderie or flirtation.

"Did that feel like pity to you?" Jack's expression, both playful and honest, made Ianto ache. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't want it -- didn't want you."

Jack kissed him again, harder, more urgently. Ianto almost felt drugged, as if every nerve ending had been magnified a hundredfold, every touch transmitting more intensity than normal. It was nearly overwhelming and instantly addicting. The heat of Jack's mouth and the strength of his hands on Ianto's body claimed more from him than any kiss he could remember.

And as Ianto gave himself over, he felt Jack surrender something, too, sharing some of what he usually held back. As Jack's hands tightened around his back, as his mouth pressed against Ianto's, he could almost taste Jack's loneliness, his isolation, his need to connect. And he began to believe that Jack wanted him, that he wasn't offering this out of pity. That he wasn't interested in finding his own heart's ease with a random shag he could pickup in any bar.

It was almost too much to take in all at once, and as the kiss finally broke, he whispered, "Oh, God."

The grin returned as Jack rested his forehead against Ianto's, mischief flickering across his face. He kissed Ianto again, just once, and it was sweet and demanding both. It was easy, then, to return Jack's smile, to begin to understand, to accept. To take what was offered and offer what he could in return.

Jack's grin faded as he held Ianto's gaze a moment, and it was all Ianto could do not to tremble in his arms like a teenager. Everything else started to recede -- London, Suzie, even, God forgive him, Lisa. Desire spread through his body like a living thing, heat and need and want growing more demanding with each moment.

Jack must have found the answer in Ianto's eyes to whatever question he left unasked, because he leaned forward to kiss him again, softly this time, but no less peremptory. "So," he said finally, with a glance at the loft "Upstairs?"

"Yes," Ianto answered. "Upstairs."

Ianto felt Jack's eyes on him as they climbed, and as they reached the top of the stairs Jack turned him around for another kiss. Then Jack's hands stayed on Ianto as he glanced about, sliding gently down his arms before settling on his waist.

The loft was only slightly more personal than downstairs, a few things scattered on the small dresser. The space was dominated by the double bed. It was neat, as he left it every morning, the rich, forest-green comforter folded down to reveal crisp linen. A nightstand with a small lamp sat beside it, its soft glow more intimate than the lighting downstairs.

Jack said nothing as he began to undress Ianto, peeling the jacket from his shoulders, loosening his tie. He tried to keep his mind focused for a moment. "Jack, I don't have... that is, I don't keep..."

Jack grinned, continuing to undress him, his hands moving to Ianto's belt. "I do, if you want," Jack said, "but we don't need 'em, if you don't. Trust me, Ianto?" It was both a question and a request.

He did. He wasn't quite sure why, but he really did. Maybe it was who Jack was, or what he did. But if Jack said it was safe, then he believed him; it wasn't much more complicated than that. "Okay," he said simply. "I suppose... I just... I haven't ever, with a man, without..."

The grin was back, and a raised eyebrow to go with it. "Really? Wait until you feel what you've been missing."

Ianto felt light-headed as Jack drew him into another kiss, and it could have been either the scotch or the implications of Jack's words. He was half-undressed now, his shirt finally off, his trousers loose under his open belt. He shuddered as Jack explored his bare chest, continuing to kiss him until he could feel his own heart pounding in his ears.

Pulling him over to the bed, Jack urged him onto his back, then lay down next to him. Jack propped his head on one hand while his other hand traced a gentle pattern over Ianto's face and neck. "If I didn't know better," Jack said softly, "I'd think you were nervous."

It was undeniably true. He was nearly shaking, not only from desire, not only from the erection that had been present and demanding since Jack's first touch, and not only from the implication that Jack was going to fuck him very, very soon. It was Jack himself, the way he was affecting Ianto, not only his body, his emotions, but something more.

There were excuses Ianto could have offered; excuses, even though they were true. He could have said that it had been a long time since he'd been with a man, but that wasn't the reason he was nervous, not the reason he was trembling.

No excuses, then. "Yes," he said simply.

For once, Jack almost looked abashed, glancing away before meeting Ianto's gaze again, taking his hand. "Nothing you don't want, I promise." He lifted Ianto's hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "But do me a favor," he said, shifting until he was on top of Ianto, looking down at him. "Stop trying to hold back, to hide what you're feeling. There's no shame here." His mouth curved in a smile. "No need for Welsh reserve."

Ianto smiled in return, a smile with a bit of irony in it, conceding the point. But thought quickly faded as Jack pressed him to the bed for the first time, as Ianto felt his cock pressing against Jack's through both pairs of trousers. He gasped into Jack's mouth as Jack traced the outline of Ianto's cock before unbuttoning his trousers.

Ianto suddenly wanted nothing more than to be naked in Jack's arms. He toed off his shoes, lifted his hips. A wicked look on his face, Jack slid down the bed as he peeled off Ianto's trousers and shorts, leaving a line of kisses on Ianto's thighs, his calves. His socks came off with his trousers, and a moment later he had his wish fulfilled as Jack moved back up the bed to wrap his arms around him, to continue to kiss him until he couldn't think, until nothing else mattered.

His bare skin rubbed against the linen of Jack's shirt, the wool of his trousers. The sensation was almost wicked, and it felt so good. Jack's mouth was on his and Jack's hands were everywhere else, pulling them closer until they were wrapped around each other. Ianto would have been happy to keep kissing like that until the world fell to pieces around them, but he didn't resist as Jack gently pressed him back against the bed, his mouth moving down Ianto's neck, his chest, his stomach.

The sound Ianto made when Jack took him in his mouth was unrestrained, shameless, something between a choked gasp and a moan. He felt Jack smile around him before he returned to his task, sucking Ianto down deep into his throat. _Christ..._ he'd had his cock sucked before, by some who were very good at it, but it hadn't been anything like this. Nobody else had brought this kind of passion to it, such obvious joy in the pleasure they were giving. And the sounds Jack was making had to be the most pornographic thing Ianto had ever heard. Ianto twisted his hands in the sheets, trying to hold back, because he didn't want it to end.

But Jack kept upping the ante, his clever hands joining the assault on Ianto's senses. Fondling his balls, stroking his thighs, slipping underneath to touch him just there -- "Fuck!" Ianto writhed, twisting, and he looked down and saw Jack with his mouth around Ianto's cock for the first time. Jack's eyes were sly, knowing, but loving and generous, too. Ianto came undone under that gaze, his head dropping back as he came, moaning out his pleasure, thrusting his hips into Jack's mouth. It felt like he came for an absurdly long time, yet it was over too quickly.

By the time he finally caught his breath and opened his eyes again, Jack had eased back and was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at him. Ianto had never seen quite that expression on his face before -- it wasn't the typical grin, nor was it the revealing smile they'd shared earlier. It was something else entirely, something intense. Something demanding, and just a little bit terrifying.

As Ianto watched, Jack finally began to take off his clothes. He didn't make a show of it; it wasn't a striptease. Nor were they the shy, abashed motions of many a new lover. It was just Jack, taking off his clothes while he watched Ianto, still flushed and panting on the bed. Perhaps a better man, a stronger man, could have held Jack's eyes the entire time, but Ianto couldn't, didn't. Like Orpheus leaving the underworld, he couldn't resist, and he couldn't help but stare at Jack's body as it was revealed, muscled strength under perfect skin.

When he finally stood naked, Ianto had only a moment to stare at Jack's beautiful, erect cock. His heart started to pound again as Jack crawled back up the bed toward him, his eyes dark and predatory. Jack pressed against Ianto and kissed him, their bodies entwining, and if Ianto had thought that kissing him before was amazing, this was even better, naked skin against skin. It was fucking brilliant, the heat of Jack's body against his own, his mouth growing more demanding with each kiss, even as Ianto tasted the faint echo of his own release on Jack's tongue. He clutched at Jack's shoulders, his back, reveling in the movement of muscle under soft skin. The urgency of his own need relieved, he tried to return to Jack in kind, to give him whatever he needed.

He was unresisting when Jack eased him onto his stomach, even though Ianto missed Jack's mouth almost instantly. It was short-lived, though, as new sensations began to take its place -- the feel of Jack holding him down, gentle pressure on his shoulders to keep him where Jack wanted him, his cock hard against Ianto's arse. Ianto moaned as Jack began kissing and gently biting at the back of his neck, an especially sensitive spot, and he started to writhe. Jack only grasped him more firmly, which was even more arousing, and Ianto felt his cock twitch again.

Jack kept one hand firmly on Ianto's shoulder, the other slipping down his body to caress his arse. Jack kissed his way along Ianto's spine, alternating gentle kisses with small, sharp bites, licking his way down. The hand on Ianto's shoulder grew even more firm as Jack's mouth reached Ianto's arse, his knees pressing Ianto's legs further apart, insistent.

And then Jack's mouth was right _there,_ and it was almost more sensation, more pleasure than Ianto thought he could bear. He cried out, caught between begging Jack to stop and demanding more, but Jack had his own ideas, licking into him, merciless. Time again became a fuzzy concept, speeding up and slowing down, ebbing and flowing as he let go, crying out his pleasure as Jack had asked him to. He was fully hard again, and it was all he could do not to rub himself shamelessly against the sheets until he came.

Jack gave his thigh a sharp bite, immediately gentled with lips and tongue, but the different sensation helped draw Ianto back to reality, if it was reality and not some dream. He felt Jack shift away from him for a moment, and when he returned, he eased Ianto onto his elbows and knees. Jack bent over him, and Ianto could feel Jack's cock pressed against his thigh as Jack began to kiss his neck again. Ianto reached a hand back, feeling the softness of Jack's hair under his fingers.

Jack stopped kissing long enough to whisper in his ear, his voice throaty, intimate, urgent. "You want this." It almost wasn't a question.

Ianto nodded sharply, his throat too dry, his mind too muddled for words. He found them anyway, knowing Jack wanted to hear him say it. "Yes," he said, his voice low but firm, "I want this."

Jack started kissing Ianto's neck again, and Ianto arched up, craving the contact. He felt Jack's fingers against him, spreading something warm and slick, and then Jack began to push inside, gentle but insistent. Ianto pressed back, unresisting, letting Jack fill him, take what they both wanted. He'd never felt this before, nothing between himself and a lover, skin against skin, and Jack was right, he hadn't known what he was missing.

Jack thrust easily, once, then again, but Ianto began to push back against him, urging Jack to take him harder. "Please... more..."

"Oh, yeah," came the response, and Jack began to fuck him harder, his hands grasping Ianto's hips. It was hot and hard and perfect, Jack's cock hitting his prostate every time, and he shuddered with the intensity of it. Jack thrust a few more times before gathering Ianto in his arms, sitting back and pulling Ianto onto his thighs, his arms clasping Ianto's shoulders from underneath and pressing him down.

"Oh fuck..." Ianto gasped out as Jack raised him up and pulled him down again, over and over, and Ianto had no leverage, could only let himself be fucked.

"Jesus, you look beautiful like this."

Ianto opened his eyes and saw what Jack did -- their reflections in the huge glass window across the loft, not as vivid as a mirror, but still visible. He ignored his own reflection, looking at Jack's instead. Jack was the one who was beautiful, his hair tousled, his skin lightly slicked with sweat, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with passion.

There was no hiding anything, not now, not like this, but Ianto didn't want to. Jack was giving everything to him, and it was all he could do to return in kind, his eyes drifting closed as pleasure claimed him again. He knew he must look like the most wanton slut imaginable, his thighs spread wide, moaning out his pleasure as he was repeatedly impaled on another man's cock.

One of Jack's hands reached down, curling around Ianto's erection, slowly jerking him off. Jack's thrusts inside him grew faster, more urgent, and Ianto felt his own need build, caught between Jack's cock and Jack's hand. Jack groaned in his ear, and it was so good -- it was too much -- but Ianto wanted it to never end.

His hand tightening on Ianto's cock, Jack whispered directly into his ear, "Do it, Ianto. I want to see your face when you come."

There was nothing left for it but to obey, and he did, crying out as he came. Jack continued to thrust inside him as Ianto's cock spurted over Jack's hand, his own stomach and thighs. With a gasp, Jack held him tightly, pressing Ianto's body against his as he followed, crying out himself as he came deep inside Ianto, his open mouth against Ianto's neck.

They didn't move for long moments, both of them breathing harshly. Ianto could feel Jack's heartbeat against his back as Jack held him, seemingly reluctant to let go. Eventually Jack eased from him slowly, peppering his neck and shoulders with soft kisses as he did. He urged Ianto down onto the bed, his back still to Jack's chest. Jack held him silently for a time, but with a squeeze on his arm he felt Jack ease away, his weight no longer on the bed.

After a few minutes, Ianto's languor began to dissipate, and he turned onto his back, feeling suddenly uncertain -- should he get up, find a robe? Was the intimacy he'd felt between them real, or just a byproduct of his own lust? He was trying to sort out his confusion when the downstairs lights flickered out. Ianto saw Jack in the dim glow of the loft's lamp as he returned, coming up the stairs carrying a small bottle of juice and a white towel.

Still naked, still glorious, Jack smiled as he returned to the bed, crawling back in beside him. He propped pillows up and urged Ianto to sit up a bit, popping the cap on the bottle and handing it to him. Ianto drank, and the tart-sweet juice was perfect, just what he needed. While he drank, Jack cleaned him, the warm, wet cloth soft over his belly and thighs.

Ianto said nothing, still unsure of what Jack had in mind, whether he was going to stay, or throw on his clothes and disappear into the night. He handed back the bottle, and Jack drank the rest before setting both bottle and cloth on the night table. Ianto's worry began to recede as Jack rearranged pillows and pulled the comforter over them both, drawing Ianto onto his side and curling around him.

When Jack finally spoke, his voice was soft, intimate. "You should sleep," he said, "because later..." and then Jack proceeded to whisper one of the most wickedly debauched -- and arousing -- things Ianto had ever heard into his ear. He answered only with a soft moan and a shudder that reached from head to toe. He blushed furiously, glad Jack couldn't see.

But Jack knew. The back of his fingers reached up to touch Ianto's face, and he chuckled at the heated skin. Jack kissed his neck once again, curling even more closely around him. "Sleep well, Ianto."

For the first night in many, he did.

~ end ~


End file.
